


we are more than the sum of our choices (we're the product of other people's mistakes)

by ThaliaClio



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Crimes & Criminals, F/F, F/M, Humor, M/M, Revenge, Rules 63, basically leverage but with more gay, female!Faraday, joss is a girl and she's a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 10:17:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12628821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThaliaClio/pseuds/ThaliaClio
Summary: There’s always a price to be paid for mistakes made.Josephine Faraday makes sure people pay that price. Emma Cullen is collecting on a debt. Chisolm and the Six may have stumbled onto something bigger than expected.In which there’s more than two sides to a story, but the truth always comes out.





	we are more than the sum of our choices (we're the product of other people's mistakes)

**Author's Note:**

> I have around 70 pages already written, but I wanted to gauge interest before I wasted another month finishing it. 
> 
> This is an excerpt from ~somewhere~ in the story.

Faraday dials as soon as she’s out of the casino. 

“So I got the shit bag that killed Matthew,” Faraday says as soon as she picks up the phone.

_ “Everything went to plan, then?” _ Emma’s southern accent is softer than Faraday’s, sweeter. You’d almost never notice the fact that she was more cold-blooded than any lizard Faraday ever saw in the desert.

“Mostly. Got in and out no problem with what we needed, but he had a guest tied up in the office.”

“.... You didn't kill him, did you?”

“Course not. I’m on a mission, not a murder spree,” Faraday frowns into the phone. _Why does everyone think I'm just gonna kill a potentially innocent stranger?_

Emma snorts. “Call it what you will. We can’t just leave a loose end like that. He saw your face.”

“You don't want me to kill the other dude, do you?” She can’t quite keep the surprise out of her voice. 

“Of course not,” Emma dismisses easily. “But you do need to find out who he is and why he was there. Send me his description, and I’ll find out if Denali had any known associates who fit.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Her only answer is a laugh and the click of a hang-up. Faraday grins at her phone and slides it into her pocket, pulling out her spare key and climbing into her already-running old brown Pinto. She missed her truck a little bit, but somehow a mismatched red-brown-green pickup from the 90s didn’t feel subtle.

“Oof!” 

80 pounds of muscular, fluffy, mutt stare up at her from her lap, tongue lolling to the side and puppy grin in place. He licks her face.

“C’mon, Jack,” she whines and pushes him into the passenger seat, fighting paws the whole way. “I was gone for 15 minutes and you had food, water, and AC.”

Jack just sneezes and keeps grinning at her. She rolls her eyes and gave in, reaching out and scratching his ears. 

Jack found her and adopted her when she got back to the states. He was a mangy, ill-trained, mean mutt of a dog, but he loved her. Sometimes she swore that he knew what she was saying. He was her only friend.  _ (She still wasn’t sure Emma had forgiven her. Didn’t think she deserved it anyway.) _

She buckles up and pulls onto the road, still scratching his ears with one hand. The commercial on the radio gave way to some twangy song about a man on the run, and she laughs out loud. 

Jack barks at her and tilts his head.

“There was another guy in the office,” she explains. “Song reminds me of him.”

She glances over again just in time to see the dog wink. She scowls at him and pulls her hand back.

“Don’t gimme none of that bullshit.”

Jack whines and curls in the seat, peering up at her mournfully. She holds her ground until she pulls up to a red light and makes the mistake of looking at him again. His tail thumps happily against the door handle when she starts petting him again.

“I’m such a sucker,” she mutters as the light turned green.

\--

“Hey _muchachos_! You can stop prepping for a tactical assault! I’m not dead!” Vasquez hollers as soon as he steps in the front door of the warehouse. 

Goody and Billy both freeze, halfway done loading down the duffel bags with a frankly excessive amount of guns, even for them. Horne and Red and Sam all stop strapping down their bulletproof vests. Five eyes all train on him. He waves once.

And then they explode into motion, all five rushing towards him, weapons left on the table. With five voices at once he can barely make out what they were saying.

“-were you?” 

“-shit, look at that eye. Wh-”

“-ow the fu-”

Vasquez lets out a sharp whistle and the silence that follows is startling in its contrast.

“I promise I’ll explain,  _pero por favor_  -- stitches and whiskey?”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Sam says, nodding. “Horne, Red -- get the med supplies. Goody, can you grab some towels? Billy - new clothes for V.”

Everyone broke off as their names and duties were called. Vasquez spares a brain cell to admire how easily Sam led a team of such hot-headed, stubborn men while Sam helps him over to the table.

He collapses into the offered chair and winced when he landed on a bruise. Or two. Maybe a few scrapes.

Goody has the good grace to bring a bottle and a glass with the towels, and Vasquez pours himself a healthy portion of whiskey while the med supplies are laid out.

“No pain pills if you’re drinking,” Horne murmurs. 

He shrugs. “I prefer this anyway.”

“Okay, son, story time. What happened?” Sam finally asks.

“How much have you guys figured out already?” He asks. He really just wants to sleep, but he knows he has to get at least the informal debriefing done.

“Denali grabbed you when he figured out you weren’t a blackjack dealer. That’s pretty much it. Don’t even know how he figured it out.”

Vasquez took a deep breath. “That ID that Kowalski got me was bad. He doubled up on his payday and gave upper management my info. Denali was just the muscle. He wanted to know who else was involved, but he left when something happened in the pit. I don’t know what exactly. But right after he left a woman broke in. Picked the lock. Seemed surprised to see me there. She killed him and let me go. Stole his hard drive. Also his wallet and his watch, but that seemed more like spite.”

He can see the gears turning in Sam’s head.

“It would seem, gentlemen, as though there’s another player in this here game of ours,” Goody drawls, tapping long fingers on the table.

“Why’d she let you go?” Sam asks.

Vasquez shrugs, unsure himself. “Said she was only here for one body and it wasn’t mine.”

Red slides in front of the computer. “Doesn’t give us much to go on so far as motive.”

“Could be hired help,” Billy pipes up. “Not many women. Could narrow things down.” 

Vasquez shakes his head. “ _No lo creo._ Didn’t look like any merc I ever seen.”

“Basics first, fellas,” Sam speaks up. “What did she look like?”

“ _Era alta_ , maybe 6 feet? White. Thin. Long, auburn, curly hair. Leather jacket and jeans. Professional. Had a silencer and gloves. One shot to the head, two to the chest. Mouth like a sailor.”

Red lets out a frustrated noise. 

“Nothing?” Sam asks.

Red shakes his head. 

“Keep looking. You always find something.” He turns back to the group as a whole. “We take a day, let V recoup, and figure what the fuck is going on here. We were supposed to be the only players, but there’s a whole other game.”

\-- 

“So was she actually a sailor?” Vasquez asks, half kidding half excited by the prospect.

“No, but she was in the army,” Sam announces, Red handing him the remote to the television. A picture of his rescuer pops up. Younger and in a uniform but the same woman. “Our mystery player.”

“Who is she?” Billy asks.

“U.S. Army Captain Josephine Faraday. Age 30, enlisted at age 18, dishonorably discharged following an altercation with her CO two years ago.”

“What, pray tell, were they ‘altercating’ over?” Goody asks, perched on the table.

Red taps his keyboard a few times and a half-redacted report appears. He talks as he reads, eyes skimming the page and words coming slow. “It doesn’t say exactly… It might have been concerning…”

“Concerning what, son?” Horne prompts when Red just keeps frowning at the computer.

“She was in black ops for the last 6 years before she got discharged. Half of her file is redacted, so I’m trying to piece this together from dozens of bare bones public records, poorly written news articles, and redacted top secret reports. Her last assignment was in Syria. It looks like she had an informant who died during the op. Another soldier was injured. The incident report for the altercation was filed the same day as her last debriefing from the assignment. She broke the CO’s nose and two front teeth. She got stitches on her knuckles.”

“And now she’s made her way into the merc business,” Sam finishes. “She’s smart and skilled, but it seems like she’s got some sense of right and wrong. She may not be our enemy in this.”

“No proof she’s our friend, either,” Billy says softly.

Vasquez glares. “She saved my life, _pendejo. Creo que mi vida es prueba suficiente, no?"_

Billy at least has the grace to looks abashed. Vasquez slowly turns to face Red and Sam, keeping his eyes locked with Billy’s for a beat longer than is polite.

“ _Mira,_ ” he starts. “We know her name, we know she doesn’t kill unless she has to, an--”

“Or if she’s paid to,” Horne tosses out. 

“Yeah, turned out you were off on that part,” Billy adds.

“Pots and kettle, _cheri_ ,” Goody says, staring at his husband. “Not all of us here have illustrious pasts. Or presents for that matter.”

“Vasquez and Goody are right,” Sam cuts in. “But, Vasquez, I know what you were going to say, and no. We start with caution. Not knowing everything is what got us here.”

“Seeing as not all of us are mind readers, would you care to elaborate?” Goody says.

“I was  _ going _ to say that we should just talk to her, no? She already knows me.”

Billy scoffs. “This is why you don’t come up with the plans.”

Vasquez glares childishly, tempted to poke out his tongue. 

Sam ignores them both. “We find out who hired her. We find out where she’s staying. We watch to make sure nothing… or at least most things aren’t untoward.  _ Then _ we talk to her.”

\--

“None of her bank accounts have any new activity,” Red says, perplexed. “Deposits or withdrawals. Also she’s pretty broke. Maybe she just got into the business?”

Sam stares at the TV, tapping his fingers slowly. “Can’t rule anything out yet. Maybe there’s something not under her name?” Sam asks. “Alias maybe?”

“I’ll check DMV records for another name with her face.” Red turns back to the computer, hands flying over the keys.

“Does she have any friends in town?” Goody asks. “Maybe this isn’t a job.”

Everyone turns to look at him. Vasquez frowns and gestures for him to explain.

“I’m just sayin’,” he shrugs and opens his arms. “We know she has a temper. She got kicked out for beatin’ on her CO. Maybe this is personal if she’s not getting paid.”

Sam nods slowly. “Worth looking into. Goody, you and Billy start looking into family, old friends, whatever you can find. Horne and I will reach out to some old contacts and see who knows anything about anything. Vasquez, you and Red go talk to her old unit. Here’s where they’re staying before they ship out and the nearest bar’s address.” He grabbed a piece of paper from the desk next to Red and handed it to Vasquez. “I’d start with the bar, personally.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos!
> 
> The full version will be up (hopefully) by the New Year, and this section will probably be a little revised and also not the beginning of the story.


End file.
